Bless Me Father
by Joe Normal
Summary: For the sin of short-sightedness. Set after Battle of the Labyrinth.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Rick Riordan owns the copyrighted characters in this story. No infringement intended in the name of profit.**

I stare at the piece of plastic, wrapped in a thin cover of see-through plastic and glued to piece of cardboard and think the obvious.

_Percy Jackson, you can't seriously be this desperate to hang out with a girl._

'Yes…yes I am,' I answer my own brain, ignoring the very real possibility that I'm losing my mind.

I check my pockets one more time. Riptide, apartment key, wallet? Check, check, check.

I take one last look in the mirror to make sure I don't look too unpresentable to any parents that may or may not be around. This red t-shirt doesn't look right on me, but the only other clean shirt I have is my bright orange Camp Half-Blood t-shirt, and I try not to wear that in case of A) Non Half-Blood Parents and the inevitable 'What is a Camp Half-Blood?' question where I end up lying that it is some indie rock band I listen to or B) Monsters who see that shirt and translate it to 'Please Kill Me'.

I take one last deep breath and place my hand on the doorknob, when the apartment phone rings.

I look over and read the caller ID.

Chase, Frederick. With a Bay Area number.

Play it cool, Percy. Act like you're in the middle of something super important.

I pick up the cordless and immediately fumble it off the kitchen counter and onto the floor. I curse something in Greek and pick it up.

"Hello?" I can hear voices in the background. Young boys arguing about something, and then a heavily accented Asian woman ordering them to share. The actual voice on the receiver sighs, and then hangs up.

Annabeth.

She and I have played this game all school year. About once a week if you can believe it.

She isn't the only one who is afraid to speak first.

My hands are shaking. They do this when she calls and hangs up.

Some brave hero I am.

I take another deep breath, and leave the apartment.

I'm walking along the busy streets of NYC. It's a beautiful late fall day, not too hot and not too cold. After three or four blocks I check my hands again. Steady again, probably due in no small part to getting some exercise.

A moment later though, I start to get an uneasy feeling.

I casually look back for a moment and my breath hitches.

Either my eyes are playing tricks on me, or two girls are trailing me, tossing little smiles and waving a bit coyly. I had to turn back around quickly just in case they were randomly walking down this same street or whether they are actually following me.

Most guys would say 'So what?' or the more egocentric ones would say 'Well of course they are smiling, look at me'.

But I'm Percy Jackson, and even on my best days, I have the sex appeal of a guinea pig. Seeing as how I've spent time as one, I'm pretty sure I know what I'm talking about.

No. The math here is really simple. 'Hot girls' plus 'interested in where I'm going' normally equal 'Empousai trying to eat my flesh'.

I see a cathedral up on my right, and I quickly duck in. It's deserted looking...which makes sense for a Saturday I guess. I duck into a confessional booth and close the door, pulling Riptide into my hand…but not uncapping her just yet.

My hands are still steady, which makes no sense as strategically I'm in a really bad spot here. I've trapped myself and may have to go one on two with some murderous demons. To make matters worse, I left Tyson's shield-watch at home for some stupid reason.

Suddenly the side door of the confessional booth opens to reveal a wood grate. I keep my thumb on the cap of Riptide…

"Are you here for confession, my son?" the priest on the opposite end of the grate asks.

"I…uh…" man, where do I start?

"Not Catholic are we?" the priest asks.

"No…sir…uh…father. I'm not." I answer relieved that I don't have to lie.

"That's alright. See? One confession down already," he says a bit too cheerfully.

I chuckle nervously…trying to keep my attention to hear if the church doors to the street open again.

"So you must be here for a reason, right? Something on your mind, son? Trouble at school? Home? Girls?" he probes…without being pushy. If anything he's almost methodical in the way he brings it up.

"I…uh…yes," I was trying to be funny here, answering yes to all three.

"Girls then? It's always girls. Unless it's boys…and those conversations can get really awkward…"

What kind of priest is this anyway?

"No…my problem is with girls," I blurt out. No need to make this conversation weirder than it needs to be. As much as I don't want to lie to a man of the church, telling him the truth would basically be an admission that I routinely break about 90% of the ten commandments on a given day.

"Ah...okay…good. I'm well versed in this topic," he says with a weird inflection.

"Um…okay…well where do I start?" I stammer.

"Well we can talk about the two women in your life that are consuming all of your thoughts, or the two devil women looking to consume your flesh that are currently sitting outside the cathedral doors,"

What in Hades?

I drop the teenager in need act and look right through the grate, and see said priest with his head in his hands barely holding back his laughter.

"Dad?" I exclaim, and now his laughter is a bit more pronounced.

He starts to calm down and wipe away a tear from his eye.

"Oh…oh Percy. You should have seen the look on your face," he says…still chuckling.

I didn't realize my clumsy attempts at having relationships with girls, or my impending death, were so hilarious.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, opening the door just a crack to get a view of the church doors.

"I could ask the same thing. On your way to Ms. Dare's house?" he asks.

I feel busted, mostly because my Mom doesn't know I'm on my way there, but my immortal-and-omniscient-but-for-all-intents-and-purposes-absentee father does know.

"Yes…but um…is that important right now?" I say wiping my hands of the sweat that is making it really hard to hold on to Riptide.

"On the surface no, but I hope that gift you are going to give her is worth unnecessarily exposing yourself to these dangers," he says, sounding dangerously preachy.

"Dad, and I say this with all due respect, are you the best authority on what the right amount of potential danger is okay for meeting women?" and even I know I've crossed a line here. But seriously, every other time he hooks up with a woman (human or otherwise), something terrible happens: Medusa, Polyphemus, Me.

There is a heavy pause as he sighs.

"Percy…" he begins, but I'm already feeling guilty about calling him out, here of all places, when I'm sure he came to help.

"Look, I'm sorry. I just…I need to take care of these hags before anyone else comes in. I feel bad enough having lured them here and I think Saturday mass is only like an hour away."

"As I was about to say, I'm going to keep Father McGloin busy back there. You don't have the shield your brother made for you for some reason…but you have another weapon that will be just as useful. But whatever you do, do not use it to heal yourself," he explains.

"What are you talking about?" and before I can lay into him about being vague, which is the only other thing I don't really like about him, I realize he's probably talking about the holy water that it is sitting in two unattached basins at the front of the church.

"The Holy Water? But why can't I…"

But before I can finish that sentence I hear the doors open, and Poseidon gives me one last glance of concern and then says "Good Luck Percy. I love you".

He starts to glow, signaling that he's about to make an abrupt exit and I should turn away, and then he's gone.

**TBC**


	2. Chapter 2

I should be thinking about a strategy to fight the empousai. But my heart and mind suddenly fixate on my dad saying he loves me. And my chest starts to cramp up a bit…and for some reason my eyes are watering up.

I guess when you don't hear it all the time, it means a little more.

Perhaps maybe too much.

I uncap Riptide, take a deep breath, and charge out of the booth like a madman, hoping the 'Shock and Awe of Stupid Percy' strategy might just unsettle them enough to run right back out of the cathedral.

No such luck.

I catch sight of one down the very pew walkway I started running down. She is a pretty brunette with green eyes when the mist is working. When it's not, like right now, she has teeth the size and color of candy corns, only about four times as many as a human.

Was she startled when I first started running out? Yes. Is she startled now? Not so much.

Her friend is still near the front door of the church. She appears Asian, but it's hard to tell with the mist and the distance involved. But one thing is crystal clear, they don't want me leaving.

We all regard each other for a moment, and then the brunette quickly pulls out two long daggers and charges towards me down the same pew aisle. No banter about kissing, or about how they just need a snack.

This is just a hit job. A pure and simple mafia-style hit job.

Tactically my position is terrible. The floor space in between the pews is so narrow I can't set my feet properly, and if you can't set your feet properly than you're not fighting with swords so much as fencing with swords.

In other words, I'm screwed.

She makes a strong and low thrust with one of her daggers that I parry away rather easily. This is followed by some pretty convincing swipes and crosses, which I dodge instead of involving my sword for defense all the time. One of the biggest lessons I learned from Quintus was to dodge when appropriate so that you don't keep your sword committed all the time. When the time is right, and your opponent is out of position, your sword will be ready for the killing blow.

Unfortunately she is so aggressive and quick with her attack, all I can do is move back and hope she wears herself out. But out of the corner of my eye I see her partner moving in step with us along the wall of the back of the sanctuary, and I realize with some concern…okay maybe more than some…that they are attempting to push me towards the other corner of the church.

This is bad.

I resolve at that point that a little offense is in order. I slash Riptide at about her chest level and she ducks, but before she can raise one of her daggers to strike me where it would really hurt, I drive my knee into her chin and she reels backwards, dropping both of her weapons.

I raise Riptide over my head for the killing stab while she lays on the floor in between the pews, defenseless, when I suddenly hear a war cry from the other empousai. I turn to see her literally launch herself over the pews and fly towards me with her arms extended. I never thought they could get that kind of lift with a metallic leg and all, but here we are.

I duck behind the pew and raise the tip of Riptide up to skewer her, and skewer I do, but the momentum of her aerial assault has caused my sword to stick in her temporarily and out of my hand. I raise my head to see the empousai disintegrate as she flies past us in an almost fireworks display of orange sparks. Riptide clatters harmlessly to the side of the front of the church and out of view.

I attempt to run after it, jumping over the empousai that I had only knocked down a moment ago, but she grabs my ankle and I take a nose dive to the floor and skid toward the center aisle of the sanctuary. As I turn over to get on my back again I see that she has not only gotten back up but she has effectively positioned herself in between me and my sword.

Awesome.

I get back on my feet, and contemplate bolting for the door behind me, but dragging her to Rachel's place…or back to my place for that matter…is no option at all.

"I've heard Poseidon's children taste very salty. Today I get to see if that's true," she says with a crooked smile.

I pause and take another sideways glance at the door.

"You might want to skip me then. I could be horrible for your blood pressure," I respond. She's being pretty lippy for somebody with no weapons.

Then again…I don't have one at the very moment either.

"I'll just have a salad for dessert," she says right before charging.

I take a nice hard swing with my right hand, which she blocks with her left arm. This allows her to step in really close and pop me with her right elbow. Even though I'm reeling backwards and probably already have a concussion, I can appreciate how much trouble I'm now in. She knows some kind of martial arts, and about all I know of how to street fight is based on the time my mom dragged me to see that West Side Story musical. Shouldn't we be snapping our fingers in rhythm and dancing by now?

Apparently not, as now I've been kicked in the stomach, probably by her metallic leg as the force was enough to cause me to skid several feet back towards the door. Before I can get up and make a break for it she is on top of me straddling my hips. She raises her hand to reveal very prominent claws and slashes my shirt open, tearing fabric and skin with equal force.

That was only the beginning of the pain, as she has taken her left index finger and driven it into a pressure point at the spot where my pectoral muscle meets my shoulder bone.

I open my mouth and let out a silent scream.

This…"girl"…for lack of a better word…knows what she is doing. And I might not ever get a chance to tell anybody about it.

I open my eyes to watch her licking blood off of her fingers.

"Just so you know, you're seasoned perfectly…" she says, a slow smile forming on her lips. That is when I notice the legs for the stand of the holy water basin

I wince, but I'll be damned if I go out like this.

"Can I refill your water?" I manage to gasp and then lunge for the stand.

The water looked brilliant as it waved over us. I caught the faintest image of it splashing her head, disintegrating her flesh and bone almost instantly. She barely had time to scream before she poofed out of existence.

But her repressed scream was replaced by my scream as I suddenly felt waves of pain pulse out of the slash marks on my chest and the hole that is now in my right shoulder. There is smoke everywhere, and it is coming from me. I look at my wounds to see the holy water causing them to burn furiously with white bubbles. It's almost like acid.

"What is going on out there?" I hear the voice of who I assume is Father McGloin from a back room of the sanctuary. I bring myself up again, painfully zip my jacket up, and run like Hades out of there.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

I'd like to think I wasn't too suspicious looking as I staggered my way through the Manhattan streets, but the reality is I'm in incredible pain. My arms are wrapped around my chest in a useless attempt to control my bleeding, and the holy water is still burning my wounds and causing a thin white smoke to creep out of my jacket.

It looks like I'm intentionally crushing a lit cigarette against my body, and it isn't going out.

To add insult to injury, the one day I needed to dodge any random NYPD patrols, I pass no less than three squad cars. Luckily only one of the six cops attached to those cars even got so much as a good glance at me, and he was too busy getting an earful from some homeless guy about a 'flying horse' that he saw over the East River. Hopefully the malt liquor smell will be a hint for the cop to not take him too seriously.

I finally reach Rachel's building and compose myself enough to the doorman, who has already seen me a few times by now to know who I am seeing. He greets me with a "Hey Percy, she already called down to let me know you were on your way, go on ahead," as he cocks his head toward the elevator.

What?

How did she know I was coming over?

I stagger into the elevator and press the button for the penthouse floor. As the elevator closes, the doorman leans over from his station and gives me one last look of mild concern. I give him a pained smile with my arms still wrapped around my chest, ignoring another wisp of smoke that has escaped my jacket.

By the time I reach her front door, I can't even stand up straight. I ring the doorbell and almost immediately hear footsteps from the other side. When I lay my eyes on her the first thing I notice is that she has recently showered, wearing jeans and a tank top, and brushing her hair with a plastic blue hairbrush.

Suddenly I realize my dad was right, I shouldn't have come over.

"Hey you…oh God…Percy what happened?" she says in a sudden panic, reaching out to help me walk through the door.

"You should see the other guy…well girl…girls," I manage to get out. "Your parents aren't here, right?"

"Pfft…of course not," she says…dumping me on the nearest couch. When I open up my jacket a cloud of smoke billows up and out towards the ceiling, my wounds still burning and bubbling. I now have gotten a good look at my shirt too, which is soaked with blood and torn to shreds in the front.

"Can you bring me some water…and some towels?" I ask, trying not to scream at the sight of how bad my situation is. She nods and runs toward another room. I remove my jacket and the piece of clothing formerly known as my shirt. I'm not so worried about bleeding all over her expensive couch, as any blood that's leaving my body is being burned away by the holy water that's still seeped into my wounds.

I take a moment in between wincing in pain to look around the room while I wait for Rachel. Slow music is playing at low volume on the IPod docking station on the hutch, and there are candles lit about in various places instead of having any lamps on. What was she doing before I got here? Normally she is in her studio with the huge windows because she needs natural light to paint.

I see a closed sketch pad on the coffee table in front of me, but even the small physical act of reaching over to look at it sounds too painful to consider.

She emerges from a doorway with a glass bottle filled with oddly blue water, an empty plastic bucket, and a washcloth.

"That might not be enough water…if it is water…" I gasp as she sits next to me, taking the torn and bloodied t-shirt from me and throwing it into the bucket. I'm guessing she doesn't want any blood trickling down on the Persian rug below our feet that is probably more valuable than all the combined possessions in my mom's apartment.

"Percy, your Dad stopped by a few minutes before you got here to drop this off. It is exactly what you need," she says with a certainty I can't argue with.

"My dad? Was here? But…" and before I can say anything further Rachel has pushed me to lay down completely on the couch.

"He said this might feel a bit cold," she says with concern, before pouring it on me. I seize up as the freezing liquid starts to fill my wounds. I try to look down to see what is happening, but the blood starts to rush out of my head, and my eyes close. The last thing I hear is Rachel Elizabeth Dare say in this sweetest voice possible, "Rest Percy, you're safe here."

I open my eyes in a haze. I appear to be sitting up now, in a tight space, not a room…but a car. A limo to be exact.

This seems familiar to me, but…how?

What the hell was in that bottle?

Before I can make my way out to see where I am, the door opens and a teenage girl climbs in. A beautiful teenage girl, wearing a sundress and busily texting away on her phone. Describing her beyond her clothes is a bit of a challenge though. She kind of has Annabeth's eyes and hair, but Rachel's expressions, and maybe a bit of this celebrity that I like…

"It's me, Percy, Aphrodite. You're giving me that look again like you can't figure it out…" she says as she puts her phone away in her tiny, useless looking purse.

"Oh, uh…" I mumble stupidly, suddenly very worried about my appearance.

"Speaking of that, you really don't know what she was doing before you got there. The low-to-non-existent lighting, the candles, the make-out music, why she seemed nervous and excited to see you before realizing you were about to bleed all over her penthouse? None of these are good enough clues?" she asks, giving me a look of annoyance.

"I…wait…where am I?" I ask, wondering if anything that just happened really happened.

"We are in your dreams, Percy. Physically, you are in Miss Dare's house. On her couch. Where she is freaking out about whether you are going to wake up or not," she explains.

"Well…am I?"

"Pfft. Oh Percy…do you honestly think this is how you are going to die given everything else you have to suffer? Wait 'suffer' is not the right word…how about…'experience'," she reconsiders.

"You mean the great prophecy?" I ask, thinking it should be obvious.

"That thing is important too," she replies, waving her hand dismissively in a way that makes it sound like the least important thing ever, "but I was talking about the other super important thing that you and I talked about in this very limo".

I point my eyes upwards trying to remember, and she gets a frustrated look again.

"Don't give me that look," I answer defensively, "My brain doesn't work around you even in my best condition. Now I'm down a pint of blood or more and I just passed out from shock".

Her expression softens. "You're so cute when you're frustrated," she says with a sympathetic smile, and I start blushing immediately.

It's amazing how fast she can disarm you with a compliment.

"So why are we here?"

"You are at a crossroads, Percy. I wanted to make sure you understand that what you do here when you wake could change your relationship with Rachel, and however indirectly, Annabeth".

"Are we supposed to go somewhere? Do something? I mean, if that's true Rachel can see whatever path…"

She shakes her head.

"It's a figurative path, Percy, and I have to leave it at that. You'll do the right thing, of that much I'm certain," and the scene before me begins to melt.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

My eyes flutter open to see the ceiling in Rachel's living room.

Music is still playing softly, and I can tell it is Incubus, not your typical Incubus song either but that weird trippy song 'Aqueous Transmission' where he's floating down a river. I'm reminded of a conversation Nico di Angelo and I have been having for months now about a possible way to defeat Kronos.

A very dangerous, likely suicidal, but totally possible way.

I feel some weight from my chest down to my legs, and when I look down I see Rachel's head breathing softly onto my bare chest. She is lying on top of me with a blanket over us. If any of our parents saw us, I'm thinking no explanation would save us from the groundings of a lifetime. Although with Poseidon you never know, he's just as likely to high five me over this the minute my mom turned her back.

"Rachel?" I say softly.

Nothing.

I reach up with my right hand since my left arm is pinned between her and the back of the couch. I gently nudge her shoulder and say her name again. She murmurs lightly before starting to stir, raising her head ever so slowly and rubbing her eyes. She looks at me groggily pushing some stray red hairs out of eyesight, but a small smile appears on her face as she meets my eyes.

"Hey you," she whispers.

"Hey," I answer back, also in a whisper.

"How are you feeling?" she asks, examining my once destroyed chest, by running her hand over it. Goosebumps follow in its wake.

"Tired, and a bit embarrassed…" I start before realizing this answer might make her kind of self-conscious, for you know, laying on top of me.

I don't think it worked, as she is now looking around nervously in our current position, doing anything she can to keep from locking eyes again.

"Sorry about…um…crashing on top of you. Your body temperature was dropping and I wanted to make sure I could hear your heartbeat. Not that I'm any kind of doctor but…" and she stops talking, probably worried that she is babbling.

I start to sit up, careful not to inadvertently throw her off. She remains on my lap.

"Hey," I start, putting a hand on her cheek to get her to look at me again, "you're kidding me right? You save my life after I bleed all over your living room and you are the one apologizing?"

"I just…I just kind of freaked out. You're the first person that ever proved to me I wasn't imagining these horrible things I'd been seeing my whole life. I can't really stomach the idea of losing you. You're my only real friend…"

"That's not true, Grover and Tyson think you're awesome," I counter, which is totally true.

"Annabeth? Not so much…" she says with a timid smile.

"I think she's just mad that you stole her thunder during the whole labyrinth quest. She'll get over it," I grasp. It's the only explanation I've been able to put together over the last few months beyond Annabeth's natural suspicion against mortals.

"That's…that's not why she doesn't like me, Percy," Rachel says with total certainty.

I pause.

"Then what? What reason could she possibly have?"

She doesn't answer right away. I wonder how she can be so sure, or if she's just imagining things in between her and Annabeth that just aren't there. But if anything, she doesn't look like she's so much unsure of the answer as she is unsure of whether to tell me.

"Percy…I…I wish I could tell you why, but I'd be violating the 'girl code', and even if Annabeth will never stop hating my guts…"

"It's cool. It's…it's totally cool," I cut her off. The last time I tried cornering a girl into a straight answer, and got one, it nearly destroyed our friendship.

Technically, I'm not even sure it isn't destroyed. But I want to see how and if we get past the great prophecy before we officially declare it one way or the other.

"So why did you come over, Percy? I mean, I like having you over and hanging out. But normally you call ahead, and don't manage to get into a near death brawl on the way here," she asks, and I welcome anything that will kill the awkward silence.

Except this question.

I start to blush as I look guiltily towards my jacket, only slightly damp from the blood and water that got on it, but still wearable since it is black.

I reach over and pull out 'the reason' from my jacket pocket.

I present her with a new, cheap but durable, blue plastic hairbrush.

"Oh Percy…" she says, sounding flattered and pitying all at the same .

"Yeah, I know, all that work for nothing," I chuckle while looking over at the coffee table where her other replacement hairbrush that she was using when I first got here now sits.

"And the worst part is…I have a drawer full of them in my bathroom. I break or lose these things all the time," she says, a timid smile emerging on her face.

"Story of my life, but at least you'll have plenty of ammunition if Kronos ever tries to run you down again," I reply.

She pauses, continuing to smile at the absurd gift I nearly lost my life to deliver to her.

"I love it," she says, and without much warning she moved in to kiss me on the cheek, but I accidentally moved my head to say something back like 'You're welcome' or 'Next time I'll bring a pizza'.

And our lips touched.

I hastily closed my eyes, thinking it's the polite thing to do, but after a second or two she pulls back.

"Oh…um…" she begins to stammer. And if I thought the lull in the conversation earlier was awkward, this is something around a thousand times worse.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean…I mean I'm not sorry about that because it was nice…it's just I know you weren't trying to um…I mean I wasn't assuming you were…" and I finally shut up because I'm just going in circles.

Rachel, meanwhile, doesn't look sorry or unsure about anything really. She puts her hand on my cheek and locks eyes with me.

"Don't ever apologize for that, Percy Jackson. Ever." she says with a firmness I have never seen from her before. I can feel her thumb trace over my cheek. Her lips are trembling though, betraying whatever confidence she's attempting to show.

But even with that I see her eyes ping-ponging between my eyes and my lips.

"Rachel…I…" I really have no idea what to say or do here.

"Shh…it's okay Percy…let's just…" and she has no intention of finishing that thought with words as she closes her eyes…and the distance between us.

Just before our lips touch again a sudden flashback breaks like a wave against the sand as the words "Be careful, Seaweed Brain" echo through my brain. In the briefest of moments I go back to those precious seconds I was with Annabeth before blowing the roof off of Mt. St. Helens.

In almost the same moment Rachel's cell phone starts ringing on the coffee table. She winces in anguish, and gets off of me to pick up the call and starts pacing around the room.

The moment is gone.

I can't tell if I'm relieved or disappointed.

"Hi dad," she says after reading the caller ID. "Yeah, I remember about dinner tonight. I'll be ready when Darryl comes by to pick me up. Yes, I'll wear a dress. Okay…alright…bye," she says.

"Dinner with the fam?" I ask with a small laugh.

"And some of his business partners. This is how my dad multi-tasks, it takes care of work and daddy-daughter time all at once," she explains.

"You sound thrilled," I say, heavy on sarcasm.

"You know it, I'd drag you along on the idea that you owe me after today. And you still do owe me, but I think you've had your fill of vampires today," she answers, clearly referring to her dad's work buddies. I can't help but laugh.

Then there is a pause again as she looks down at her feet.

"Well how about we try this again sometime? And that time I won't show up in anything less than perfect condition?" I say getting up from the couch.

"It's a date," she replies…a smile returning to her face. "Now, we need to do something about…" and she starts gesturing towards my naked chest.

"Oh come on, I can't be the only half-naked guy walking around Manhattan this evening," I say, pretending to get all defensive.

"True, but the NYPD and/or the Port Authority might make a bigger deal about it since you are a minor," she counters.

She's got me there.

"You win…this time," I say squinting my eyes.

"All the time, hang back for a second while I steal one of my dad's shirts for you," and she runs off out of the room.

I look over at the coffee table at the sketch pad.

It's just sitting there begging me to look at it.

If she really didn't want me to see any of it, she would have hidden it or put it away.

Right?

I sit on the couch and hastily open the book.

I've barely laid eyes on the first drawing and I'm already…concerned.

She's basically sketched me walking near the church, and looking back towards the two empousai. Rachel has drawn them perfectly as I remembered the scene arm-in-arm, in their non-hideous hot girl form. One asian, one not, both smiling with deadly flirtatiousness.

I gave her none of these details.

The next sketch is of me in the confessional booth, talking with my dad. Another detail I did not give.

Then there is a sketch of the fight in the church, specifically me losing Riptide as I impaled the airborne Asian empousai. This is followed by a series of smaller sketches combined on one page of me getting pummeled by the other, finger slashed, and finger stabbed. Followed by her getting doused and evaporated with the holy water.

Page after page, all of them as if she was right there, but the drawings of when she was there are even more confusing. She's drawn the parts where she finds my dad at her front door with the bottle of whatever cured me, clearly not knowing that was why he dropped it off. Then one of me showing up at her door nearly doubled over in pain, while she brushed her hair.

One of her pouring the curative on me. One of us talking on the couch, one of us accidentally kissing, one of us almost kissing, one of her answering her phone and pacing around the room. All as they just had happened.

Is she playing some kind of joke? But that's impossible if you consider the pictures about the church and the empousai.

But the last page is the most confusing.

It's Rachel and me, at least I think it is. She looks…different…but it is definitely her, wearing a blouse over a swimsuit and her hair pulled back in a ponytail. We are in a car seat, the driver's seat specifically. She is straddling my hips and kissing me like there is no tomorrow. Her hands are holding my face, making sure I guess we do nothing but kiss. The one hand of mine that I can see is resting on her hip, and even though she is mounting me in a way that says it's okay, I'm sure I had to summon a lot of courage to take that leap.

On it's own, this would freak me out enough. Does Rachel really want me this way? I mean…we have a good time together, but I can't see how I'd be a good fit for her in the boyfriend sense. I mean I have a hard time seeing that with any girl, but her especially. She's into art, reading, and social causes. I'm into basketball, fart jokes, and Bronze Age warfare.

Annabeth and I at least have the last thing in common, but even then, it's hard to imagine she would want that kind of relationship from me either.

But what really gets me to start panicking as I look at this last picture is a small detail hanging from the steering wheel column.

It's a blowfish keychain, and I know who it belongs to. We're in Paul's car.

I start to think that this isn't what Rachel _wants_, necessarily.

This is something that is going to happen…in the future…and like everything else in the sketchbook, Rachel has merely drawn it into focus.

I hear her footsteps as she is making her way back towards the living room. I close the book and set it gently back onto the table, placing the empty bottle on top of it to make it look completely undisturbed.

She enters the room a moment later, a polo shirt in hand.

"I've got a shirt for you," she sing-songs.

And I've got a million questions, none of which I can ask without admitting I've invaded her privacy.

TBC


End file.
